


Power

by Whedonista93



Series: Spooky Season 2020 [18]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Genie/Djinn, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:01:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27087529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whedonista93/pseuds/Whedonista93
Summary: Three snarling dogs, carefully crafted from a dark gold with black diamonds for eyes stand in front of a heart tree crafted from a pale yellow gold with a ruby at its center. It’s thematically darker than anything Sansa would select for herself, but it’s warm against her skin, and she swears she can feel it humming against her very soul.
Relationships: Sandor Clegane/Sansa Stark
Series: Spooky Season 2020 [18]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1958881
Comments: 21
Kudos: 77





	1. Chapter 1

Sansa stumbles down the stairs of the little bed and breakfast she'd booked then for the weekend, then stops and frowns. She can't remember which room Joffrey had decided he wanted. Eventually, her alcohol muddled brain decides something along the lines of 'fuck it,' and she kicks her shoes off in the hall before creeping into the room on her left. She manages to kick a nightstand as she shimmies out of her dress, and bites her tongue to muffle a curse. Joff will be _pissed_ if she wakes him. Once she manages to kick out of the dress, she lifts the covers and slides into the bed. She manages an addled thought that his back feels broader than usual, and he smells better - like cedarwood and lemons rather than his gaudy, headache-inducing cologne - too, before she drifts off.

She wakes slowly, groggily, snuggled into the side of someone her hungover brain recognizes as very decidedly _not_ Joffrey. Gods, she knows what Sandor smells like, _why_ couldn't her drunk brain have made the connection?! Oh, Joffrey is going to be _so_ angry. Admittedly, right this moment, Sansa is so comfortable she almost doesn't care.

"I know you're awake, Little Bird," Sandor's voice rumbles under her ear.

Sansa squeezes her eyes shut. "'m not."

"Not that I mind, but wanna tell me how you ended up in my bed?"

Sansa scrunches her nose, trying to think. "Oh… I… Joffrey, we ran into some of his friends from college, and ended up at different clubs. I couldn't remember what room he had picked, and I know he'd be so angry if I woke him…"

Sandor snorts. "And you didn't realize the body you climbed into bed with was twice the size of your usual bedmate?"

Sansa shrugs self-consciously. "I was very, very drunk Sandor. All I really registered was that you smell better than his gods awful cologne."

Sandor chuckles and squeezes her shoulder. "He's not awake yet. If you sneak in now, he won't even notice you were never there."

Sansa drops an impulsive kiss to Sandor's chest - oh, _gods_ , his _shirtless_ chest. "Thank you, Sandor. I… I don't know how I would survive him without you."

Sandor squeezes her shoulder again. "My offer still stands, you know."

Sansa nods. "I know. Maybe someday…"

"Just ask."

Sansa regretfully disentangles herself from Sandor and the covers, then tip toes across the hall, only to find Joffrey, very naked, in bed with another woman, equally naked.

She thinks about screaming, about ripping the other woman out of bed by her - clearly dyed - red hair, about slapping Joffrey right across his wormy little face. Instead, she picks up her suitcase and her toiletry bag - neither even unpacked yet - snaps a few photos of Joffrey and his bedmate, then goes back across the hall.

Sandor, in nothing but his boxers, gods help her, raises a brow. 

Sansa silently offers her phone.

The brow goes higher at the pictures.

"I'm asking," Sansa says. 

Sandor grins. "You know the right words, Little Bird."

Sansa nods. "Yes. But, would you mind terribly if I borrowed your shower first?"

Sandor chuckles and waves get toward the bathroom. Sansa indulges in the shower longer than she probably should, but she makes up for it by dressing quickly and simply. She brushes and braids her hair and lets it hang down her back, then steps into jeans and boots and pulls a plain black t-shirt over her head. She spies Sandor's shirt from yesterday, a classic red and black flannel, on the floor, and shrugs, deciding she might as well. She rolls the sleeves to her elbows, decides not to bother with makeup, and steps back out into the main room, bags in hand.

Sandor grins. "I could get used to seeing you in my clothes, Little Bird." 

Sansa takes in his jeans and boots, paired with a black long sleeved thermal, and grins back. "It's almost a shame to see you in them at all."

Sandor barks out a laugh and steps into her space. "I like this version of you, Little Bird."

Sansa tilts her head to the side. "What version?"

He raises his hand to her shoulder. "The version that isn't cowed by the likes of Joffrey Lannister." He brushes his thumb over the pendant hanging from her neck. "The version that takes what she wants… what she deserves."

Sansa's fingers rise to his, resting over the three snarling dogs in front of the ancient heart tree. She hasn't taken this pendant off since the day she got it. "He still has no idea the power he gave me."


	2. Chapter 2

_ “Give her something pretty,” Cersei recommends, when Joffrey is lamenting Sansa’s lack of… physical affection. “Or at least something shiny.” _

_ Joffrey shrugs, and wanders off, neither noticing Sansa and Sandor in a shadowed alcove. _

_ Sansa shudders. “Gods, what ugly, gaudy bauble am I going to get this time?” _

_ Sandor shakes his head and moves a checker. “Who knows? Bored of this shit, yet?” _

_ Sansa nods. “Chess in the garden?” _

_ Joffrey finds them an hour later, both scowling at the chess board in the shade of an old oak. He clumsily sneaks up behind Sansa, and clasps a gold chain around her neck and drops a kiss to her bare shoulder. _

_ Sansa glances down, expecting some large, heavy, flashy mess that she’s going to hate. Instead, she finds something she loves on sight. Three snarling dogs, carefully crafted from a dark gold with black diamonds for eyes stand in front of a heart tree crafted from a pale yellow gold with a ruby at its center. It’s thematically darker than anything Sansa would select for herself, but it’s warm against her skin, and she swears she can feel it humming against her very soul. She actually finds herself blinking away tears. “Oh, Joffrey, it’s lovely.” _

_ Surprise flits across his face briefly, but he conceals it well. “You really like it?” _

_ Sansa nods happily and - almost as an afterthought, a way to appease him - she reaches up and kisses him, a little more intensely than she usually allows. _

_ Joffrey looks even more smug when they part, and he saunters off after a reminder they have a dinner date. A moment later, Sansa is alone with Sandor again. _

_ Sandor is staring at the pendant around her neck with something like wonder. _

_ “Three hounds… that’s your family crest, isn’t it?” _

_ Sandor nods, almost absently. “Do you have any idea what that is, Little Bird?” _

_ Sansa bites her lip. She does, is the thing… an idea, at least. The North still believes in the old gods. The North is superstitious. She knows magic is real. But it’s not something that is spoken of away from the North. Sandor, though… he is gruff, but he has been kind to her since the day her father dropped her off in King’s Landing. Like her, he is an outsider, forcibly bound to the Lannister family, though she has never asked him how they hold him. She decides to trust him, at least a bit. “The North still believes in the old powers, Sandor. And this,” her fingers brush across the pendant, “is someone's power. If Joffrey is foolish enough to give it away, I am not so foolish as to deny it.” _

_ “It is  _ my _ power, Little Bird,” Sandor admits quietly. _

_ Sansa’s eyes go wide. _

_ Sandor reaches across their forgotten chess game and brushes his fingers over the pendant. _

_ Sansa shudders when it hums pleasurably against her skin. _

_ “The Clegane family has been bound to the Lannister family for so long, I doubt they remember what it is that binds us to them.” _

_ Sansa can’t help but laugh brightly. “And Joffrey has just given it to me.” She tilts her head. “Do you want it back?” _

_ Sandor looks at her curiously. “You really would just hand it over, wouldn’t you?” _

_ “It’s yours.” _

_ Sandor finally lets his hand drop back to the table as he shakes his head. “Keep it.” _

_ Sansa’s brow scrunches. “Sandor?” _

_ “We are stronger when we are bound to someone.” _

_ Realization hits Sansa. “You’re djinn.” _

_ Sandor nods. “Bound to just ourselves… we survive, but our power wanes. And to be bound to you… I have no complaint against that, Little Bird.” _

_ Sansa smiles warmly. _

_ Sandor frowns. “One thing, though.” _

_ “What’s that?” _

_ “That whole three wishes thing… it’s bullshit. Fairytale nonsense. But if you do wish… it will well and truly bind me to you.” _

_ “Right now?” _

_ Sandor shrugs. “You hold my power, but you could pass it off to another, just as Joffrey did to you.” His gaze drops. “I would rather you have it, but I would not have you unintentionally forging a bond between us.” _

_ Sansa reaches across the table and takes his hand. “I can think of far worse fates than having my life entwined with yours, Sandor Clegane.” She squeezes his fingers. “But I will do no such thing when I am still under the Lannister’s power. I would not put you any more under them than you already are.” _

_ “That could be your wish,” he says quietly. “To have us away from them. You need only ask.” _

_ Sansa squeezes his hand again. “Not just yet.” _


	3. Chapter 3

Sandor hefts his duffle bag off the floor and over his shoulder and holds his free hand out for Sansa’s suitcase. Sansa shakes her head and takes his hand with her free one. She goes up on her toes and briefly presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

Sandor visibly startles. “What was that for?”

Sansa smiles. “Because I wanted you to know that it’s my choice, before we’re bound and before you can try telling me I don’t know what I want.”

Sandor smiles ruefully.

Sansa’s smile morphs into a grin. “You can’t even tell me I’m wrong. I want you, Sandor. I have for a long while. I just couldn’t have you without the Lannister's killing us both.”

“And now?” Sandor asks softly.

“Now… now I wish you would take us away from here. Take us somewhere safe, where we have power over ourselves.”

Sandor squeezes her hand, and the pendant flares warmly around her neck, and Sandor’s little B & B room fades around them. Sansa stumbles a little, when the world rematerializes around them, and Sandor catches her against his chest. She can feel the energy, the magic, pulsing between them.

Sandor drops a kiss to her temple. “Well done, Little Bird.”

Sansa drops her suitcase to the ground and beams up at him, then glances around them. They’re in… well, honestly, it resembles the Great Hall at Winterfell more than anything.

Sandor huffs. “Clegane Keep.”

Sansa blinks. “Your family seat?”

Sandor finally drops his duffle, and nods. “You wished for somewhere we have power over ourselves. And here… there’s just us.”

Before Sansa can formulate an answer, a man even larger than Sandor stumbles out of thin air and whirls around madly. He freezes when his eyes land on Sandor. “The fuck did you do?”

Sandor grins. “I didn’t do anything.”

The man’s eyes shift over to Sansa and land on the pendant around her neck. He turns wide eyes back to Sandor.

Sandor’s grin spreads. “Didn’t I always tell you they didn’t have a fucking clue what we were? Cersei’s little prick of a son put it around her neck hoping to get in her panties.” He wraps his arm around Sansa’s shoulders. “Little Bird, this cunt is my brother Gregor. Gregor, Sansa Stark.”

Gregor tilts his head. “This little thing has our family power around her throat.” He squints. “And she’s bound to it?” He looks at Sandor in surprise. “She knows?”

Sandor nods. “Everything. She’s a Stark, brother. The North still believes.”

Gregor shrugs. “Little thing like her, we’re gonna be protecting her all the time.”

“I can take care of myself!” Sansa protests indignantly.

Gregor chuckles. “I ain’t complaining, girl. It’s been an age since we’ve been home. And I’d rather look after a cute little ass like yours than a flat old ass like Cersei’s.”

Sansa lifts her chin. “You can do whatever the hells you want. Frankly, I don’t care. But keep your eyes off my ass.”

Gregor holds his hands up in surrender. “What was it you called her, a little bird? Your little bird has claws, brother.”

“All the better to tear your eyes out with,” Sansa says sweetly.

Gregor laughs. “Oh, I like this one.”

Sandor sighs wearily. “Remember she holds your power in the palm of her hands, brother. I will not be held responsible if she  _ does _ actually claw your eyes out.”

Gregor rolls his eyes. “I’ll behave.” He raises his arms above his head until his back cracks audibly. “Gonna go find a bed. Fucking Lannister bitch had me running errands for the last three days straight.”

Sandor snorts derisively. “Errands?”

Gregor smirks. “She’s gonna be fucking pissed when she realizes the old Tyrell bat is still alive. Matter of fact, might pop out and tell her that Cersei ordered me to gank her… then come back for a nap.”

Sansa’s lips curl. “The Tyrells would certainly strike back, if they had that knowledge. It would keep the Lannister's too busy to look into our disappearance for the time being.” She raises a brow at Gregor and smiles too sweetly. “I wish you would go speak to Olenna Tyrell, Gregor. In fact, I wish you would tell her about every  _ errand _ you ran against the Tyrell family for the Lannister's.”

Gregor’s face goes slack. “You really do know what we are. Fucking hells. Conniving little thing too.” His form starts to blur around the edges. “I’m going, I’m going.” Gregor vanishes.

Sandor snorts. “It’s gonna take him hours, at least, to confess his every sin against that family.”

Sansa smiles up at him. “I certainly hope so. I just got you to myself. Why would I want your dickish older brother interrupting?”

Sandor chuckles. “He is a dick, but he’s loyal.”

Sansa’s hand brushes his cheek. “He’s the one that saved you from the fire, right?”

Sandor nods.

“Then I shall try to get along with him. But he  _ will _ respect me.”

“Fair enough. Your family?”

Sansa sighs. “Later… my father loves me. He could not have known the fate he was abandoning me to, but we have to deal with the Lannister's before I can return to my family.”

“You want to make sure they’re too weak to harm your family before you go back,” Sandor realizes. He grins. “You have the power to do that, you know.”

Sansa grins. “I know. But I have something more important to attend to first.”

“What’s that?”

Sansa tilts her face up toward his. “Gregor’s idea of finding a bed has merit.”

Sandor’s brow furrows. “We’ve only been awake for an hour, Little Bird.”

Sansa grins. “Who said I was tired?”


End file.
